


Prepare for Surgery

by VivificanousPrime



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Knock Out being Knock Out, Scavenging bodies, Vivisection, malpractice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24562354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivificanousPrime/pseuds/VivificanousPrime
Summary: Before they joined the Decepticon ranks, Knock Out and Breakdown were Autobots. Their descent into deceit was a spiral of secrets and conspiracy. They experienced the worst the Autobots had to offer.And it began with an offer from Pharma.
Relationships: Breakdown/Knock Out
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Prepare for Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> The world is crazy right now, so I hope this serves as a good distraction.

Knock Out didn’t see anything particularly interesting about the day. The medbay was slow with so few occupants and even fewer ongoing battles. A skirmish here or there around the base brought in the occasional hot-tempered frontliner, but aside from that, there was nothing really to do.

Boredom suited him like scratches down his pristine paintjob. Knock Out milled around, cleaning this and that, for the duration of his shift but couldn’t find an adequate distraction from monotony. Not that he necessarily longed for harm to others, but it would make life a little more tolerable. 

What really irked him was not being able to talk with Breakdown. Sure, when there were patients to attend to, turning off private comms was for the best. But right now? With absolutely nothing to do? Knock Out longed for his lover’s poor sense of humor. 

The other trainees were not his preferred kind of company. They didn’t seem to like him, for one. Allodyn, in particular, was very vocal in his opinions of Knock Out’s shiny red finish and swishing hips. He was aware Allodyn wasn’t the only member of the medbay who thought so lowly of him. There was no changing their minds. No amount of surgical brilliance or their superiors’ praise could alter their impression of him. So, Knock Out kept to himself.

He knew they weren’t allowed to lounge on-shift, but Knock Out had found a loophole. The medbay was filled with various containers that contained spare materials and equipment, most stacked against a far wall. It was an ideal place to recline. One could lean against or rest on a container so long as they held a data pad in their servos, looking like they were taking inventory. The boxes’ position on the far end of the medbay allowed one to stow away, effectively hiding from responsibilities and disapproving coworkers with an acceptable alibi. It was perfect for Knock Out’s purposes. At least, for a short time.

After cleaning tools and berths for nearly four straight joors, Knock Out snuck over to his usually place among the crates. He had plans of laying out on the boxes and resting his bored optics, dreaming of more enjoyable activities. 

Until it all came to a screeching halt. 

Pharma stood in front of his hide-away, staring intently at him. Knock Out honed his surprise and tried not to let his mind start racing. Clearly his little lounge sessions had been discovered by his overseer. That could only mean one outcome for him and his career as a surgeon safely tucked away from the violence of the battlefield. 

At Pharma’s quirked brow, Knock Out raised his data pad, mustering all the grace and charm he could. 

“Just…checking inventory.” Frag, that sounded so fake, Knock Out panicked.

But Pharma looked as bored as Knock Out had felt only few short moments ago. The flyer didn’t say anything, just beckoned him to follow. 

Knock Out wanted to bolt. This was the end, he knew it. This was what he got for getting comfortable, for thinking he could win anything in his meaningless life. As he shuffled after his boss, the idea that death would soon be upon him was looking more and more like a reality. 

He would be dismissed. After dismissal came replacement. The only other position a barely-medic could fill was something on the frontlines. He would be flung there, in a battle with no fighting experience and a strong sense of self-preservation. Deep down, Knock Out knew that no matter how fast he was, he couldn’t hope to outrun certain death. 

The all-consuming thoughts raged inside him but were rudely interrupted by Knock Out running himself into something. With newfound horror, Knock Out looked up to see wings. 

_ Pharma’s _ wings.

An extremely unattractive noise escaped him before he could grab a hold of himself. But yet again, Pharma didn’t seem all that bothered. 

“You have no idea what’s going on, I hope.”

Pharma’s words took a little longer to sink in than Knock Out would have liked. They still didn’t make much sense.

“N-no?” he stuttered out, then gathered his waning confidence. “No, sir.”

“Good.” And Pharma started walking again. Bewildered, Knock Out followed.

They were heading to the private operation theatres, he realized. For the briefest of moments, Knock Out considered calling Breakdown. Pharma clearly was going to outright _murder_ him. Or perform a vivisection on him. Reasoning didn’t really ease him; the medbay was in short supply of replacement parts, and medics pledge their lives to healing others. Ergo, kill the interns. Not like they would be missed. 

Knock Out instead prayed on his dumb luck and what little confidence he had left as Pharma unlocked a room and entered.

Some of his fears slipped away at the sight of a dead body.

“No need for introductions,” Pharma said as he waltzed to the side of the operating berth with the monitors. He gestured absently at one. “No processor activity. It’s just a spark barely powering a frame.”

True enough, upon closer inspection, the mech’s brainwave activity was essentially flat. Knock Out glanced through the other readouts, mostly out of habit. 

Processor function: dead. Spark activity: fatally low. External injury: significant dent to the helm. 

A quick visual proved that last bit. On an otherwise healthy frame, the mech’s helm had a massive gouge in the back right side. Not really that unusual of an injury. Frontliners got in fights, and one thing tended to lead to another. It’s all fun and games till someone loses their head and has to be sent to Intensive Care. 

Intensive Care…not the operating room. Let alone an _empty_ operating room.

That icy fear returned full force. Knock Out faked glancing around at the monitors to find the nearest exist. He had no plans of finding out just how this mech had gotten here or how he had received his fatal injury.

“I have a proposition for you,” Pharma announced. He had leaned himself against one of the tables jutting from the back wall. Knock Out didn’t peg himself a fool, though. All the scalpels were in those drawers. Along with various other medical tools he suddenly couldn’t remember the names of. 

There was really no way out of this. “Ok.”

“You see this body?”

How stupid. “Yes, we’ve been acquainted.”

“You and I are going to do a bit of work on it.”

Slagging vague fragger, Knock Out thought to himself. But he refused to seem any less in control than he was sure he already looked. “ _Work_ , you say?” he asked, throwing on a sly grin, as if he was in on what Pharma was talking about.

“Indeed.” Pharma grinned right back, knowingly. “You see it has a few things we want.”

Knock Out placed his hands on the crippled mech’s berth, leaning on them in a way he knew to be coy. “Just what might that be? And how can I be of assistance?” 

If Pharma was going to drag him into…whatever this was, anyway, Knock Out wanted to at least feel like it was his choice. 

“We’re short on parts for spark chambers and fuel lines,” Pharma explained, approaching the berth to copy Knock Out’s pose on the opposite end. His wings fanned out, making him look larger. “And I happen to know of a mech who won’t be needing his anymore.”

Knock Out suppressed his gasp of realization. Primus, that was it? A simple dissection of an organ donner? All the remaining fear built up in his chassis faded into a nervous, relief induced smile.

“Oh!”

“He wasn’t a donner.”

“Oh.”

“You see the conundrum, then?” Pharma leaned further on his hands. “Why is it that this mech, so close to death as he is, should horde such parts when others will surely die in our lacking them?”

Knock Out didn’t argue. In fact, he completely agreed. It was a question he had posed early in his training as a medic that gained him much chastisement and had fueled his reputation. There where hundreds of frames with perfectly preserved organs and circuitry that lie in waste all because of the greed of the body when it was living. 

“Why indeed,” Knock Out added, filling his voice with smooth tones that assured his listener’s attention. “We are at war. If these mechs are willing to sacrifice their lives to fight in the name of our cause, then surely they could lend their bodies to their comrades once they’re no longer using them.”

Pharma smiled, this time more genuine. “I knew you and I would be of a similar mind.” He rose, stepping away from the body to set up an operating table. 

Knock Out took the chance to control himself. He wasn’t here to die but to be hired. He wasn’t killing anyone (technically) but the act was illegal, nonetheless. If this was some ploy by his superiors to test him, he was failing extravagantly. If this wasn’t a trap, then what choice did he have not to comply? The list of things Pharma could do to him now that he knew of illegal activities on the part of his direct superior dragged on longer than he had time to think.

There was only one option: cut this poor fragger open.

Pharma slid a table over with all the necessary instruments for a spark chamber extraction and line repair. Knock Out inspected each item, planning how they might be used. He wondered what role he was expected to play, here. If it was, indeed, a trap intended to catch him in the act of malpractice, Pharma might have him do the work alone. If it wasn’t, Pharma was likely to join in, to ensure the work was done properly. 

When Pharma didn’t move, Knock Out hesitated. He selected the device meant to separate chest plating at the seams, preventing them from needing to cut through and damage the frame. It was light, relying on small electric pulses to shock the nervous system and not on brute force. Knock Out twirled the device in his digits like a dagger. He lifted his helm just enough to expose his neck cables and stared down his chin to leer through narrowed eyes.

Pharma took the hint. “I can assure you, you get something out of this.” 

Knock Out lowered his chin and shock device in unison but didn’t break his glare. 

“With the untimely demise of my Chief of Surgery comes an opening for the position,” Pharma explained. “You show promise in your skills, Knock Out, you only need added practice. I am aware that there are some who seek to undermine you.” Knock Out nodded in affirmation. It was difficult to hone your craft when you were not allowed to assist. “Then think of this as your well-deserved opportunity to prove to me why I should choose you for the position.”

An all-too desirable offer, Knock Out had to admit. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that for as much as Pharma had said, he hadn’t revealed everything. “I am not the first mech you’ve offered this to, am I? These two positions opening at the same time…” Knock Out twisted to the side to peer at the flyer from over his broad shoulder, so that all his superior could see was his optics. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with poor Faultline.”

Pharma smiled humorlessly, shaking his head. “I only take on the best and the brightest. You’re proving me right in choosing you.” 

However it was Faultline had met his end, Knock Out decided he didn’t need to know. He just needed confirmation that his life was secure. “So…I get playtime with cadavers and a place in your medbay, and in return,” he twirled his free hand in Pharma’s direction, “you get what? Parts?” Knock Out settled his hands, one still clutching the shocker, on his hips. “I see where I stand to gain, but what about you, _sir_?” A multitude of meanings were engulfed in the address. Promises of rewards, of gratitude, and an acknowledgement of power and who between them possessed it.

“That may come in time,” Pharma replied.

“I don’t care to own people.”

“I don’t work in favors.”

“Then you _need_ me, is that it?”

“Not quite.” Pharma grinned, and for a moment something overtook him. The insanity of war had done no good to his psyche. They were healers, after all. But the glint in his eyes vanished just as soon as it had come. “You simply don’t know the entire picture.”

“And if I want to know?”

Pharma lifted a scalpel from the table. “Perhaps, I might even see to getting you blue optic lenses.”

Knock Out didn’t allow the diversion to fly. “And just what might I have to do to earn such rewards?”

The blade twirled between Pharma’s digits. “Earn my trust.”

A simple enough task.

The dangerous edge of the shocking device lodged itself in the prone mech’s chest. Knock Out acted with all the precision and accuracy that had earned him top marks among his peers and this newfound place beside Pharma. 

The flyer acted accordingly, securing lines and cutting through protoform with a speed Knock Out had yet to have the privilege of witnessing. It was all routine procedures from there. Only, there was no need to fret when the spark monitor ultimately flatlined. 

Knock Out relished in the opportunity to prove himself and to learn. With added and improved skills, he could upstage any performance his fellow medics attempted to put on. Would it do anything to change their minds? No, probably not. When you looked like a flirty slut, nothing was going to tear away their lusting gazes to show them a complex person beneath the bright red paintjob. When red eyes beamed with penetrating intelligence, people didn’t care to look passed their initial fears.

No, none of what had transpired would change how people would view him.

But at least this would keep life a little more interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! All my work exists in the same overall storyline, so if you liked this, check out some of my other works! I love feedback, so let me know what you think!
> 
> I know things are chaotic, but I hold on to hope and my belief that humanity will emerge from division with a newfound kindness. Stay safe everyone!


End file.
